


Playing Hooky

by BoyGoggles



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Banter, Gen, M/M, The beast - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyGoggles/pseuds/BoyGoggles
Summary: Left to their own devices when the rest of the physical kids have gone on a school trip, Quentin and Eliot decide to have a nice day to themselves, but it doesn't stay nice for long.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Playing Hooky

It was quiet, which was unusual for the Physical cottage, a usual hub of activity. Eliot was used to people flowing through the building like blood through a body; keeping the cottage and with it, Eliot alive. But right then there was no heartbeat, no blood, no people. The usual charm and warmth of the building seemed to be seeping out of the drafty single pane windows. The gold morning sun brought no warmth as it crept across his feet and the hardwood beneath them.

He felt isolated, adrift on the scratchiest of the common room couches. He wondered how long it would take to die of boredom. He guessed minutes, if not less. Eliot was a social butterfly out of necessity, he was allergic to being alone, as one would be allergic to latex or homework. The reaction could take place at any moment, leaving his handsome corpse to the whims of rigor mortis and decomposition.

He leaned back on the sofa and tried to relax. He closed his eyes and listened to his heart beating. Waiting for the moment it stopped. A victim of loneliness. Tragic.

What felt like a few minutes passed and he thought he was starting to feel it, a slight tingle in his toes. He settled deeper into the couch and let his mind wander. He thought of what his funeral would look like. He hoped they would dress him well. They could probably just leave him in what he was wearing, but he could say that about any outfit he put together. It would be open casket, of course. He hadn't drawn up any sort of plan in advance for the event but he knew that Margo would take care of it. He imagined the guest list to be novel length. Eliot's last bash. Who wouldn't want to attend?

His funeral fantasy was broken by a slow creak moaning above his head. He cracked open his eyes and stared at the spot above him. Now who could that be? He thought everyone had gone on a school trip. One that Eliot himself was unfortunately unable to attend.

He was on a little blue pill called Paula's Pudding when Fogg was explaining the details the previous evening. The little pill was much less fun than the name suggested, along with paranoia, Paula gave him the spins and the bladder of a guinea pig. Dean Fogg took notice of his twitching and frequent bathroom trips and decided that Eliot was unfit to attend. Whether or not the Dean thought he was sick or high, he was too afraid to ask.

Another creak sounded above him. Maybe boredom wouldn't be his cause of death after all. Maybe whatever was making that noise would end it. He sat up straight and listened. Nothing. He should investigate. After rescheduling his death Eliot rose off of the couch and made his way to the stairs. At the top he poked his head into the hallway looking left and right. The coast was clear.

As quietly as he could in his newly purchased black oxfords, he made his way down the hall in the direction of the noise, peering under every door along the way. He was just checking the fourth door when he saw a shadow pass underneath door number five.

He froze. There was actually someone there. He didn't think there was actually going to be someone there. What if it was a murderer there to harvest his innards to sell on the black market? His liver was no good but you could get a pretty penny for the rest of it. He could feel his heartbeat quickening in both fear and excitement.

He crept over to the murderer's door, Quentin’s door. He hesitated. He didn’t plan for this. What should he do? Knock? Run away? Pretend he didn’t see anything and go back downstairs?

“Hello?” he said instead. Yes, perfect, the intruder should be quaking in their boots.

There was the sound of fabric shuffling and another creak from behind the door. Eliot just had time to imagine how the handsome murderer (because there's no way his murderer was going to be less than a 9/10) was going to kill him before a soft “Hello?” answered him back.

“Who’s in there?” Eliot demanded.

“Um, Quentin?"

As quickly as it had arrived the tension evaporated from his body and without a second thought he pushed his way through the door. He entered to the sight of Quentin, rumpled and sitting up in bed in just his star wars boxers

“Jesus!” Quentin yelled. Then his eyes found Eliot's face. “Fuck, El, warn a guy! Barging in here like that. I thought I was here alone and you were like, a murderer or something.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Disappoint?”

“Nevermind”

And just like that his foul mood brightened. The roller coaster of emotions he had experienced in the last few minutes were surely going to leave him with whiplash but never the less he was glad to see his friend.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He could feel the morning sun warming the side of his face. “What are you doing here?” he gave Quentin a once over. “And why are you in your boxers?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Quentin pulled whatever blankets were available over top of himself. The prude.

Eliot walked to the bed and sat down next to Quentin. “Why am I in my boxers? Well it’s a funny story actually, I met this fortune teller and-”

Quentin chuckled and smacked Eliot on the arm. “No, not that. I mean what are you doing here, didn’t everyone go on that trip to see magic locations in Europe or something?”

“Ah yes, that, well apparently you’re not supposed to get faded before class, who knew.”

“Yeah, I never would have guessed. Who knew” Quentin smiled.

“It’s all in the past now.” He leaned back on his hands and watched Quentin’s bare back as the other man turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, well I-uhh just didn’t really feel like going, you know?” he said with a shrug.

Eliot gasped in mock surprise, “Are you telling me…you skipped? Bad boy Quentin.”

Quentin just gave another shrug.

Eliot felt a smile pull at his cheeks. “And why are you in your boxers?” he asked.

Quentin creased his brows. “It’s not even nine o’clock El, I just woke up.”

The sentence struck Eliot like a club.“God, it’s not even nine o’clock.” he moaned and flopped onto his back. He should have just let himself die downstairs.

“Bored?”

“Yes, God, so bored. I thought I was going to pass away like a vegan cat on that God awful Tweed couch.” Lying on his back Eliot could see that Quentin had stuck glow-in-the-dark stars above his bed. Following real constellations, he can only assume. He didn’t do well in astrology.

“Do you want to do something?” Quentin asked.

“What kind of something?” Eliot asked suggestively. 

“By the look in your eye I can tell you it’s not the kind of something you’re thinking.”

“Then no.”

=-=-=-=-=

They ended up spending the afternoon by the river, throwing rocks and waiting for something more exciting to come find them. The strange spell cast over the campus made it feel like it was the middle of August despite it being October. Cicadas were chirping and pools of heat glimmered along the river bank.

The early afternoon sun beat down upon the pair, who had found semi shelter underneath a gnarled tree by the waters edge. The water was low and the sound it made was soothing music to Eliot’s ears.

Eliot buried his hands in the warm stones that surrounded them and looked over at Quentin, who was now fully dressed in his usual unflattering clothes. He watched as the other man picked out skipping stones and threw them in the water. Though it looked like he was trying, none of them actually skipped. This didn't seem to discourage Quentin in the slightest.

Eliot looked back at the water and watched each of Quentin's stones hit the surface with a soft plunk. "I wonder what Margo is up to. It can't be much fun without me there." he mused.

"I'm sure she's just fine." said Quentin as he sent another rock straight into the drink.

"I know she's fine. I'm just wondering if she's having fun without me. She better not be...that bitch."

"I'm sure her and Alice are having a wonderful time together." They both laughed.

As the afternoon crept on Eliot could feel the sun grow hotter against his face. He brought out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Quentin, who graciously accepted. He also brought out his handy flask, which never emptied. He didn’t offer to share it with Quentin but that didn’t stop the man.

They sat closely, pressing their sides together and passing the flask back and forth and dragging on their smokes. Eliot tried to explain how to skip rocks to Quentin but he wasn’t interested in learning. Instead he just tossed the rocks harder. And in protest Eliot perfectly skipped rock after rock.

After they had each had a couple of cigarettes and Quentin was through with hearing about rock skipping he suggested they should go for a dip. Eliot saw no fault in the idea so they each took a long swig from the flask quickly stripped down to their underwear and waded into the water.

Although it was technically October the water felt the same as it would in the summer, still freezing, but not that freezing. Eliot took a running jump into the water, best to get it over with, he thought. Quentin hadn’t applied the same strategy, he had opted for the slow and painful method. He waded in slowly with his arms held above the surface.

"I didn't know you were such a sissy, Q. Should I go tell your boyfriend to come and take you home?" Eliot heckled.

"Wow, I didn't know you were such a homophobe, El." said Quentin, inching his way deeper.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"Hmm, I should have known. I didn't want to assume, but I'd always guessed by the way you, you know-" Quentin made what could only be described as a 'Jock Gesture'.

Eliot swam up to his friend and pulled at his trunks. "Hurry up and dunk, it's freezing."

Quentin gripped his shorts to keep them up. "Hey! Settle down horn dog, what happen to being homophobic?"

Eliot shrugged. "I can occasionally be tolerant." he said with a smile.

Quentin closed his eyes, he seemed to be gearing himself up to go underwater. He stood still for a moment then swayed suddenly, losing his balance and falling back into the water with a splash.

"You fucking lightweight." Eliot laughed before Quentin had a chance to get his head above water.

Shortly after, the pair decided that they were sick of fresh air. They threw their pants back on and left their shirts unbuttoned. Eliot was pleased at how good Quentin looked in an open flannel and told him as much, which got him a shy smile in return. They wandered back towards the cottage, with flask and shoes in hand.

Quentin took a deep swig from the flask. "We would usually have transfiguration around this time, right?" he asked.

Eliot snatched the flask back and took a long drink for himself. "Uhhhhh, yeah, sure. Why?"

"You want to go see if the classroom is empty?"

Eliot put his hand to his chest in fake shock. "I didn't know you were such a bad boy, first skipping school and now breaking and entering? Keep this up and I really will pull your trunks down." He couldn’t help but be a flirtatious drunk. Eliot wasn't sure but he could have sworn he saw Quentin's face redden, but it was probably just the alcohol.

They changed course to the building where transfiguration took place dragging their feet in the grass and drinking some more.  
They arrived at the building in no time. Like all of the buildings on campus it was an old handsome building filled with honey light, as all things seemed to be within the bubble of Breakbills. They pushed their way through the double doors and padded down the hall towards their destination. 

While they walked they could hear someone humming a jaunty tune from another classroom.They both joined in, humming a discordant tune. They arrived at the classroom door and Eliot did the honours. With a turn of the knob the door swung open freely.

"Well that was easy." Quentin said a little deflated.

They each took a step into the classroom and looked around. Eliot was disappointed it wasn't more of a challenge to get in. They dropped their things at the door and sat down at the nearest desks side by side.

Eliot leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. "Now what?" he asked.

"Good question," Quentin said. "I was actually thinking that we could uh-"

"Quentin Coldwater" came a deep voice with seemingly no origin.

They both startled at the sound and looked for its source. Eliot’s eyes landed on something at the front of the class. It was a regular full length mirror, but the surface was rippling like water.

"What the fuck." They both stood from their seats.

A shimmering blade flew forth from the mirror towards Quentin. Eliot instinctively grabbed his shirt collar and pulled both of them to the ground, knocking their chairs down with them. The blade flew by them and cut deeply into the desk behind where Quentin had been and knocked it backwards with a clatter.

Eliot looked back towards the mirror and saw a figure stepping out. First came a black oxford, like his own, then grey slacks, a well fitted suit jacket, and then-

And then there were moths. A swarm of moths where there should have been a head. He could hear their wings beating and their fat little bodies bumping into one another. He stared in awe but instinct told him they needed to run.

Eliot tried to look at Quentin to tell him such but his body wouldn't move, he was frozen. Not by fear but by magic. Panic was quickly setting in. What was happening? The thing in the suit calmly walked towards them, humming the tune they had heard in the hallway.

It stopped a few feet in front of them and looked down at them. "Good to see you both again, how are things this time round?" It asked.

Neither of them could respond.

"Oh very well then." It made a gesture with its hands, which, Eliot noticed, were very much human.

Eliot felt himself go slack, he was able to move again. He didn't hesitate, he pulled at Quentin’s shirt where his hand was still gripping and shoved them both towards the nearby door.

"Where’s your sportsmanship?" It said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eliot saw another shimmering blade soar towards them. Still holding Quentin's collar he pulled them both to the floor once more. They scrambled to the other side of the door and Quentin slammed it closed.

They both looked at each other for a moment. "What the fuck is that?" Quentin panted.

Neither of them wanted to find out right that second. They sprung up from the floor and took off running, their bare feet slapped the old floors as they flew. Eliot's heart pounded.

A boom resonated from behind them. "He blew the fucking door off!" Quentin yelled.

"Some other time then." Eliot heard the beast shout after them.

They made it to the end of the hall and burst through the doors back into the sunlight. They kept running. He wasn't thinking about it but Eliot was leading them straight to the Dean's office across campus. It didn't seem that they were being followed but neither of them wanted to slow down.

When they arrived at Dean Fogg’s office Eliot rattled the knob. It was locked. They pounded on the door and yelled for the Dean to let them in, that it was an emergency.

"Fucking let us in!" Eliot yelled and the door swung open.

The Dean was stone faced and unamused. The duo fought their way into the room talking over one another about what had just gone down.

Eliot heard Dean Fogg muttering to himself, clearly ignoring the scared ramblings of his students. They were still yelling over each other as the Dean walked around his office, waving his hands and chanting a spell.

"Are you even listening?!" Yelled Quentin.

"To what? Your unintelligible screaming? No. But I know what happened and I know what to do, so just shut up and have a seat." Neither of them wanted to sit, they had too much adrenaline, so they both paced the room and waited for the Dean to finish what looked to be a protection spell.

"I think there were classes happening in that building what should we do?" Ranted Quentin

"You don't need to do anything, it's a Saturday, there are no classes." The Dean dropped his hands, now finished with the spell and made his way to the phone on his desk. He sat in his large leather chair and spoke shortly with someone and hung it up. Once he was done he faced his students who were patiently waiting on the other side of his desk. He made a 'so?' gesture which prompted both Eliot and Quentin to talk over each other once more.

"Stop" They stopped "One at a time." He gestured towards Quentin.

Quentin paced in front of the desk gesturing wildly as he explained what had happened.

Once he had finished the Dean looked over at Eliot. "Anything to add?" he asked

"He wore a nice suit."

The Dean sighed and leaned forward in his chair. "Before I attempt to answer any of your questions I must ask some of my own. First being, why the hell are you two here, you were supposed to be on a trip."

"You told me I couldn't go" supplied Eliot.

"Now why would I do such a thing when it was oh so important to have you go?"

"Beats me, you said 'something something something- trip….something... Now that I think of it, I might have taken some artistic libraries when you were really just talking about my drug trip."

"That would be correct."

Fogg turned to Quentin, "And what do you have to say for yourself." he asked.

"I uhhh, well, I uh- I skipped"

The Dean put his head in his hands and took a deep breath.

"And what about your friends? Julia, Alice, the others. Did they go or did you all play hooky?" he said judgmentally.

"I'm pretty sure they went. Why?" replied Quentin.

"Just trying to keep track." said the Dean with a tight smile. He sighed again and started, "Well, I have no explanation for either of you. But I can assure you that you are safe and when that phone rings-" he pointed to the phone on his desk. "and I get the all clear, you are both going to head straight back to the physical cottage and speak of this with no one, is that clear?"

"Uh, yeah, but why can't we tell anyone?" asked Eliot.

"I don't need the panic on campus."

The phone rang and the two were sent back.

Eliot was back exactly where he started that morning, on the God awful tweed couch, but felt completely different. He could have died. Actually died. He tried to imagine his funeral once again but this time it wasn't a gala that all of high society wanted to attend. It was a somber event, and though Eliot was the guest of honour, he wouldn't really be there.

"I can't tell if we're lucky or not." he said to Quentin, who laid on the floor by his feet. "I mean, we didn't die, we didn't even get hurt, but we were still attacked."

"What do you think that thing was?" Quentin replied, ignoring Eliot's statement.

"I thought it was some sort of beast. A person, but not quite."

"A beast." Quentin whispered back.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a writer, sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I hope to come out with more chapters for this even if it's only to get better at writing by practising because i'm having a lot of fun with it. I hope you have as much fun reading this as i did writing it and I'd appreciate any critique or suggestions for the story and would love to hear what you think! (also I'll probably change the title if i think of anything better but my mind's blank rn)


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